


Fragile

by Seulkie



Series: To Arms, Boys! [4]
Category: 20th century - Fandom, History - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 20th Century, Gen, History, Original Character(s), World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seulkie/pseuds/Seulkie
Summary: May 1916 - Belgium





	Fragile

The company had returned from the front a little over 3 hours ago, with only about a quarter of its original number lost. For the officers, this was cause for celebration, and they chattered amongst themselves as they received their rations of food and cigarettes. Remi was less cheery as a hearty pile of beans hit his plate. It was a bit more than usual - probably because of the losses. Usually, Remi would have been thrilled, but this time, one of his close friends had been among those killed. It had been one of his buddies who he had enlisted with; a childhood friend. Remi managed to convince the cook to replace his share of chewing tobacco with cigarettes, then went off to find a place to eat alone.

The area that the French army had set up base in had once been a small village in Northern Belgium, until it was destroyed by the Germans and occupied by the Belgian army. Eventually, the French soldiers came as backup, but now almost all the original Belgian soldiers had been moved farther south, leaving only the French to block the German army from advancing any further. The Germans managed to retake the town once in the summer of 1915, but it wasn’t long before they were pushed back to their old position by the French and Belgian forces.

Remi found the ruins of an old church, and he sat down in one of the pews before digging his spoon into the pile of beans. After a year and a half of war, he was used to people dying. It was just the way of things, but that didn’t make it easy, especially when one of the dead was a good friend. Remi sniffed as he took another bite of beans. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps approaching.

“You were silent the entire lorry ride back from the front, and you don’t want to eat with the rest of us.” A rough voice echoed around the church. “Are you still sad about Olivier?”

Claude sat down on the pew next to Remi, his blonde hair sticking up wildly and a half burnt out cigarette between his teeth.

“I know you didn’t like him, Claude, but he was my friend all throughout school.” Remi replied in a slightly bitter tone. “And I… His dying thoughts were very loud…”

At this, Claude put down his food and offered Remi a cigarette. Even though he was now 27, he looked like he was almost 40. He always had a thick, dark beard, and a deep purple hue under his eyes. Claude once explained that ever since he was a child, he would have trouble sleeping, sometimes staying awake all night. Of course, being in a war has only made it worse, and he now barely sleeps at all. It’s a wonder how he manages as well as he does.

“What were they?” Claude asked after taking a long drag.

Remi was still lighting his cigarette, so he thought, ‘He desperately wanted a hug from his mother again. Just one last hug. He would have given anything to be in her arms one more time,’ making sure Claude would also be able to hear them.

Claude was the only person who knew about Remi’s telepathy; Remi had managed to make sure of that. He had never met anyone as loyal as Claude, and doubted he ever would again.

“I’m sorry.” He replied. Laying a hand on Remi’s shoulder. “At least he isn’t in this hell anymore though, right?”

Remi didn’t move. Claude did have a point, and he certainly wasn’t the only one who believed that death might not be as bad an outcome after all. Remi even found himself envying those who had escaped the horrors of the front, and whatever life they would try and live afterwards. 

“Suppose so.” He muttered, taking another drag from the cigarette. 

“Come with me, I’ll show you something to take your mind off of things.” Claude said, standing up while encouraging Remi to do the same.

Remi rose slowly, but instead of following Claude, he just stared at the ground. Olivier’s final thoughts were playing over and over again in his head, so clearly that Remi couldn’t say for sure they weren’t the originals. The feeling of those thoughts ending as Olivier died also repeated in his mind; every time it happened, Remi felt just as sick. He now wished he never knew what it was like to listen to someone’s mind die.

Then there was a tug on Remi’s upper arm, and before he could react he realised he was marching in step next to Claude, who was pulling him through the church.

‘I was over halfway there before noticing you weren’t with me.’ Claude thought with a hint of annoyance. Remi flushed.

The two men walked towards a small, wooden door on the opposite side of the church that was somehow still in tact. It opened with some force, revealing a spiral staircase leading down. Claude went first, Remi trailing a couple of feet behind him. At the bottom was a dark, musty room with stone walls. Claude didn’t waste any time lighting the gas lamps, illuminating the massive amount of books and papers stacked high against the walls. The object that held Remi’s attention, however, was a piano neatly tucked into an alcove. There was a fine layer of dust over it, but he simply used the edge of his sleeve to clean it off.

“The bishops or nuns must have moved all of this stuff down here before the Germans first arrived. They were smart, this place is a natural bunker.” Claude mused as he put on a pair of spectacles and browsed the stacks.

Claude picked up a book that looked like it was written by a medieval monk and turned to a random page. He squinted at the Latin text, trying to make out the faded letters. He didn’t look it, but Claude was a brilliant scholar. He knew at least 5 languages, and often translated between the French, British, Flemish, and sometimes even German divisions when the need arose. He also read Latin, and either spoke Portuguese or Polish. Remi could never remember.

“You used to play piano, right?” Claude gestured to the instrument. “I’m sure no one would care if you used this one.”

There was a small, barred window close to the ceiling, allowing a small amount of light to enter and showing a view of the sky. In the distance, the outlines of planes could be seen. Occasionally one would be shot out of the air, leaving behind a trail of smoke as it plummeted towards the earth. The sky was a soft pink, with a few wispy yellow clouds lazily moving with the spring breeze. Remi shook his head when Claude spoke, looking from the window to the keys. Claude had gone back to his translating, having taken a seat on the dirt floor.

It had been a long time since Remi had played any instrument. There was a part of him that feared the war had taken his musicality, and that he would never be able to play well again. What he used to know about music was replaced with drill, his memorised songs were forgotten after the first bombardment. He tapped a few notes, wincing at how out of tune the piano was. But he knew that he was in no position to be picky, so Remi took a deep breath and started playing.

The song returned to him quickly, and he only made a few small mistakes before muscle memory took over. Remi hadn’t realised how much he had missed playing, and he reveled in the feeling of creating music again. He imagined staying in this room for the rest of the war, playing piano and avoiding the front. In this room, he wouldn’t have to listen to people’s terrible thoughts all the time. He could drown them out with music. He could just play and play and forget about the war and about death. He wouldn’t have to see his friends die anymore.

“Remi…” Claude interrupted Remi’s thoughts suddenly, causing him to stumble in his playing. It took him a moment to gather his senses.

“Sorry. Was I thinking out loud again?” Remi responded flatly. He started the song again, but quickly trailed off. The momentum had been lost. Then he slammed his hands down on the keys, the crashing sound of dissonance causing Claude to jump.

‘WHY? ARE? WE? EVEN? HERE!?’ Remi screamed in his mind, smashing the keys with every word. He didn’t care that Claude probably heard him.

"We don’t have a choice!" Claude shouted quickly. "Because there are big rulers who don’t care a lick about us, and need us to keep dying out here for the advancement of a pointless cause. Because if we aren’t out here, the Boches will raze Paris to the ground, and then the rest of France and the world soon after. Because it’s our turn to give Germany a good thrashing after Bismark. I could give you a million senseless reasons, but none of them would make this goddamn war make any more sense!

"Right now," he went on, "I’m going to read, and you’re going to play piano, and neither one of us are going to question the war anymore until it’s over, because there is no reason why we’re here. The war is pointless. That’s all we can determine right now. It’s pointless, and we just have to keep shooting until the leaders realise that too."

When Claude didn’t continue, Remi asked, “And then what do we do?” He had relaxed slightly since Claude had started talking.

He shrugged. “Then we try and rebuild. Question things. Study what happened and learn from it...” Claude glanced around them, “And maybe get some revenge for the hell we’ve been forced through.”

This brought a small smile to Remi’s lips, and he rubbed his hands together while searching for some kind of bench. Claude was right, questioning their reality would only make it worse, especially when they all knew the real reasons for the war were absurd. He eventually found a chair covered with papers, which he simply pushed on the ground without a second thought. He noticed Claude’s expression at the papers hitting the dirt, but he ignored it. Taking a seat back at the piano, Remi stretched his fingers and rested them on the keys.

“I think I am going to stay here for a long time.” Remi said softly.” You can leave whenever you’d like, though.”

Claude chuckled, turning the page of his book. “It’s fine. I have nowhere else to be.”


End file.
